Identity Crisis
by Dude13
Summary: It's amazing what difference just one superficial change can make. Oneshot.


**Author's Warning**: Like everything else, this takes place in my series, set up by the events in my first story "More Than My Friend" where the big event is that Frankie adopts Mac as her "little brother". If you haven't read that story yet, I strongly suggest you do so now, or else you might get terribly confused.

* * *

"Oh, _no_…"

The pajama-attired nine-year-old gasped under his breath as he peered between the stair banisters down into the dark foyer. Never before in his life had he actually encountered a burglar before, but right now he was almost one hundred percent positive that what he was currently observing the bona-fide deal.

Before his curiosity had finally forced him to investigate the strange noises he had heard from his bedroom a few minutes earlier, the child had initially assumed it was a resident imaginary friend fetching him or herself a midnight snack. However as soon as he spotted the lanky intruder's corn-blonde hair reflecting brightly in the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows, the horrified child instantly became certain that some thug had somehow broken into the house.

Fortunately, at the moment the thief had yet to spot the child while he or she rooted about near where the car keys were hung, hopefully giving him the opportunity to sneak away unnoticed to warn the others. With a hard swallow, Mac just took one step back…

_Creeeeaaaak_!

After the sudden screech of a squeaky floorboard under his bare foot unexpectedly reverberated throughout half the house, the little boy's heart skipped a beat as the burglar glanced up and spotted him instantaneously.

"_Hey_!" the intruder yelled before immediately making a speedy beeline for the child.

With a hoarse cry of terror Mac took off, racing like mad to try and warn Foster's sleeping occupants. Unfortunately despite his frantic efforts, he was absolutely no match for his pursuer, who effortlessly bounded up the foyer stairs and within moments the boy felt a pair of slender arms wrap around his body and scoop him up into a tight grasp. Close to fainting in fright, Mac shook uncontrollably and shut as his eyes tightly as his captor consolidated him into an escapable hold... and promptly scolded him like a stern mother.

"When I say Saturday night bedtime is ten o'clock, then I _mean_ ten o'clock, Mac Foster!" A tremendously familiar voice echoed in his ears, rendering the boy utterly flummoxed.

"…Huh?" he whimpered while warily opening his eyes again.

"You heard me!" the "burglar" admonished as she carried him surprisingly gently straight in the direction of his bedroom. "Mac, you _know_ I hate it when you sneak downstairs to watch TV late at night. I thought we've been through this before, you're not allowed to…"

While she lectured on, Mac just gawked incredulously at the young woman cradling him in her arms. The slack-jawed boy had to admit; there was no denying the shoulder length mop of bright blonde hair atop her head. But then again, there was _no_ mistaking that familiar face; he'd recognize her absolutely anywhere.

"….._F-Frankie_?" he whispered softly in stupefaction.

"Oh, don't even try and make up any excuses, mister!" Frances "Frankie" Foster warned sharply. "I don't care that I was out late, your bedtime stays the same no matter what I-_HEY_! Mac, what are you…"

Once Mac had grabbed a handful of her inexplicably blonde hair and held it in front of her face for her to see, the previously redheaded girl came immediately trailed off, halted dead in her tracks, and for a few moments simply stared dumbly at the curious sight. Stunned, she could do little more than wallow in shock for a good while until finally she murmured softly, "That's...that's not right..."

* * *

"….Kathy, _why_?" Frankie implored miserably into her cell phone as she paced about her sunlit bedroom, clad in her favorite skirt, T-shirt and sweater combination. She paused as her best friend answered from a cross the line, and almost immediately her jaw plummeted so quickly it nearly disconnected from her skull.

"What do you mean 'why ?' _Hey_!" the former redhead exploded angrily. "Don't try and play dumb with me! All I wanted to do was spend a low-key night hanging out, and last night you specifically told me that I'd leave your apartment with strawberry-blonde highlights! There was _nothing_ in the deal about making me look like a scarecrow died on top of my head! How'd you turn a simple highlight job into _this_? How? This…this seriously doesn't make any sense! Not only did you use the wrong color, you managed to encompass every strand of hair in it! Even worse, you _lied_ to me about this whole thing! Why…huh? No, you _did_ lie, you lied right to my face about the sea of blonde on my skull, you _so_ didn't want to tell me what happened! Yeah-huh, I remember! Right before I left I asked you how I looked, and you said my highlights looked wonderful, but I had to wait until I got home to look at them…..yes, yes you _did_! You told me it'd be better if I waited so it'd be a surprise! Don't lie, Kathy! And thanks to _you_, I nearly scared Mac half to death when I returned home looking like a…_what_?"

As Kathy suddenly cooked up another unbelievably ridiculous excuse, the caretaker's emerald eyes nearly bugged clean out of her head.

"…April Fools?" Frankie repeated disbelievingly as she tugged upon her currently bright blonde locks. "Kathy, it's _June_! Don't tell me you think I was supposed to believe _that_! You're not even trying to defend yourself anymore! If you're going to lie anymore, then at least try to …Kathy? Kathy? Hello? Kath, you there? Hello?"

As soon as the dial tone began to chime in her ear, signifying that her terribly embarrassed best friend had abruptly hung up, the frustrated young woman shoved her phone back into her sweater pocket and collapsed limply atop her bed with a weary groan.

"_Why_?" she begged, gazing heavenward before a sharp rap upon the doorframe alerted her to a visitor. The temporary blonde craned her neck and quickly spotted a familiar blob of an imaginary friend standing in the entrance of her room.

"…What do _you_ want?" she grumbled from where she lay, not exactly in the mood for the resident miscreant's shenanigans.

Bloo just stared at her suspiciously from a safe distance and demanded flatly in quick succession, "_Who_ are you, _what_ have you done to Frankie, and _why_ are you wearing her clothes?"

"….Oh, _please_ tell me that you're joking." she implored piteously.

Unfortunately, much to her dismay the distrustful imaginary friend appeared dead serious as when he arrived as he shot back fiercely, "Identity theft is no laughing matter! Lady, _where_ the heck is Frankie?"

"_I'm_ Frankie." She answered as she unhappily guessed where this was going.

"No, seriously, _where's_ Frankie?" he demanded yet again.

"_I'm_ Frankie."

"Where's Frankie?"

"_I'm_ Frankie."

"Where's Frankie?"

"_I'm_ Frankie."

"Where's Frankie?"

"_I'm_ Frankie."

"Where's Frankie?

"_I'm_ Frankie."

"Where's Frankie?"

"_I'm_ Frankie." The exasperated young woman groaned for the umpteenth, not even looking his way anymore as she fixed her dull stare up towards the ceiling again.

"Okay lady, _now_ you're starting to tick me off." Bloo growled threateningly. "I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing here, but I'm only going to ask you one more time, got it? W_here_ is-"

"Bloo, it's _really_ me!." she beseeched fruitlessly. "No lie!"

"Oh yeah right, Blondie!" the figment scoffed incredulously. "Like I'm gonna believe _that_ load of garbage! Besides your clothes, height, weight, and facial features, you two don't even look alike!"

"But-" she tried protesting.

"Who are you? Why isn't Frankie home yet? What are you, an identity thief? Or are you one of her friends or something? If so, how come we've never seen you around here before? Eh?" he demanded like some azure interrogator. "Speak up! I _demand_ to know the truth, or I swear I will call the cops and tell them that-"

"For the last time, I'm really-" she tried unsuccessfully to repeat herself.

"_LIAR_!" the skeptical figment jabbed a blobbish stub and defiantly accused. "Either you stop drowning me in your sea of lies right now, or-"

"Bloo, leave her _alone_!" Mac scolded as he suddenly entered from the hallway, no doubt attracted by all the racket. "She-"

However, his demand fell entirely onto deaf ears as his creation grabbed ahold of his shoulders and started whining. "Mac, this creepy blonde chick just…she just won't leave! She's been in Frankie's room all morning, wearing her clothes and trying to act like her. I mean, she's even trying to sound like her, but her impersonation's totally off, if you ask me-"

"Bloo," The boy groaned, unable to believe what he was hearing. "That's not a-"

"Don't get too close!" the imaginary friend yelped frantically and forcibly pushed his creator back a few steps. "Stay away! She probably has Frankie tied up and gagged in the trunk of a car somewhere! Watch out, evil blonde's gonna kidnap you and steal your identity the very first chance she gets!"

After staring incredulously at the figment for a moment, the child wracked his mind for several seconds before pushing his friend away and immediately exiting the room with a frustrated sigh. "Yeah! Yeah, that's it! You go tell Madame Foster, and I'll keep an eye on her so-_NO_!"

In an instant, the child had returned, and upon his reentrance he promptly tried to pass right by the panicked blob in a beeline for Foster's resident caretaker.

"Mac, _no_! Stay away, or she'll lock you in a meat freezer somewhere or something! Mac, wait! No! No! Don't-_WAUGH_!" Bloo squealed as his creator, in no mood for nonsense, pushed him aside and sent him sprawling flat on his face. A moment later, Mac had climbed atop the mattress, where he motioned smartly for the puzzled young woman to sit upright.

"Pal? What're you-"

Before she could get in another word, he took the bright red baseball cap he had been holding and roughly forced it atop her head. After making sure to tuck in her trademark ponytail out of sight, in just a few moments he had successfully concealed nearly every flaxen strand from sight, just as Bloo clambered back up off the floor.

"_Huh_?" the perplexed little creature muttered as he was instantly swamped by a wave of befuddlement the second he laid eyes upon her again. "_Frankie_? What the...when did _you_ get back?"

"….You _can't_ be serious, can you?" Frankie whined. Alas, the dumbfounded imaginary friend wasn't trying to fool anyone, as indicated by the alarm stamped all over his face.

"But…if you're _here_…and she's no longer…but…then that means…oh, no…th-that crazy blonde chick must've run right by me., and…Oh my God….she's _still_ in the house!"

Wasting not a moment, he grabbed a heavy book lying on the floor nearby, and raced off, waving his improvised club high above his gelatinous head.

"…Well at least he's gone." Mac painted out optimistically before turning back to the temporary blonde and getting down to business. "So, is there like a special shampoo or something that'll get that color out, or….uh….um, Frankie? Frankie? You all right?"

Looking absolutely beside herself, the young woman gazed off blankly into empty space with a thousand-yard stare before whimpering miserably, "I…I think I just saw my entire identity get reduced to a blurb."

"…Huh?" Mac inquired curiously. As much as he wished that she were merely joking, her frantic expression said otherwise.

"You just saw Bloo!" the visibly upset caretaker reminded. "He…he had absolutely _no_ idea who I was, all because-"

"But this is _Bloo_ we're talking about." Mac countered. "What did you expect? He always-"

"But the only thing different about me was my hair," Frankie protested as she whipped off the baseball cap and pointed to her impermanent golden locks. "All it took was a change up here and…I just…was just thinking that…"

She leaned in close to the bemused nine-year-old and inquired worriedly, "…Is my hair color really _that_ much a part of my identity?"

"Say _what_ now?" The thoroughly confused child managed to mutter as he struggled furiously to understand the root of her distress.

"Oh c'mon, you remember what just happened!" Frankie protested. "I mean, yes, I know my hair color isn't that common, but _seriously_! What we just had to deal with was just plain bad, even for Bloo! As soon as the red hair vanished, he didn't have a clue who in the world I was!"

"But _why_ are you freaking out so badly just because Bloo had a little trouble with-" Mac tried to interrupt.

"_Because_!" she explained frantically. "Now I'm seriously afraid it's just not Bloo! What if that's how everyone else only sees me as? Not Frankie Foster, but just Frankie, the redhead? What if-"

"Jeez, calm down!" the child yelped as he began to pat her shoulder while she appeared to be on the verge of spiraling into a massive panic-attack. "Frankie, relax! Okay, don't you think you're overreacting just a _little_ here?"

"Probably!" she admitted miserably as she drew up her legs and hugged her knees. "But I can't help it! I swear, I can't! It's _really_ bothering me so much now! Everything else about me is the exact same, and I even have my same ponytail. But just because my hair color changed, Bloo actually didn't know who I was, and now…I-I just can't stop thinking about it!"

"Well, try!" Mac yelped as her breath became alarmingly shallow. "Just try to settle down!"

"I _can't_!" she whined as an involuntary shudder raced through her body. "I honestly _can't_! I can't stop thinking if this is really a serious problem or not! What if it really wasn't just Bloo, and all I am is the chick with the mop of scarlet atop her head? The girl whose hair blends in with Wilt? The caretaker with the crimson locks -"

Before she could continue, Mac silenced her with an abrupt jerk upon her sweater.

"Okay," the little boy said flatly as he stared her straight in the eyes. "Now you're _definitely_ going overboard with this."

Rather than snap her out of her panic, the dismayed young woman just whined hoarsely. "Pal, I'm sorry! This is seriously just bugging me so bad, you have _no_ idea. I just can't get it off my mind! I mean, am I really going overboard? _You_ were there when I told Grandma what happened! As soon as I walked into her room I thought she was going to-"

"Earth to Frankie!" Mac shouted. "The last time she saw you, you had bright red hair, remember? Of _course_ she was a little surprised, but that's all that happened! She was laughing about it five seconds later, she thought that it was funny-"

"No," Frankie just denied gloomily. "I saw the look in her eyes, she had absolutely no idea at first who in the world I was! She didn't even recognize her own flesh-and-blood, to her I was just some weirdo blonde and-"

"Will you _just_ relax?" the child snapped as her pessimism wore his patience thin. "You're blowing this _totally_ out of proportion now! Frankie, you need to calm down-"

"But what about when Wilt-" she tried to counter before he quieted her with a firm stare.

"Frankie, _trust_ me." Mac practically begged for her to come back to her senses. "It's just a highlighting job gone wrong, _period_. Your hair color does not define who you are; just because a few close friends and family have gotten a little confused doesn't mean that you've suddenly lost your entire identity, okay? It's absolutely crazy for you to be freaking out like this just because you think-"

"Miss Frances! Miss Frances!" A call suddenly interrupted the moment. Upon instant recognition of the all-too-familiar voice and the accompanying racket of someone hopping down the hall, both woman and boy took one look at each other and together they erupted into a chorus of annoyed groans.

"Miss Frances? Miss Frances, _where_ are you?" they could hear Mr. Herriman cry. "I thought I made it perfectly clear at supper yesterday that it is absolutely imperative that you start cleaning those gutters as early today as possible! They're absolutely filthy, and if you think that I'm-"

The large imaginary rabbit entered into the room and trailed off into dead silence the moment he spotted the caretaker and her unwanted dye job. As the puzzled figment stared her right in the eyes, Frankie cringed and began to fidget about anxiously under his bewildered stare.

"I-I can explain, just-" she started to stammer, when suddenly Mr. Herriman merely sighed heavily and calmly turned his gaze onto Mac.

"Master Mac," he requested. "When you see Miss Frances again, not only should you remind her to take care of those gutters, but _please_ tell her that she should inform me whenever she invites her friends over."

He then turned back to Frankie and explained with a polite bow, "No offense, miss, it's only house protocol."

"Uh….n-no problem?" The astounded young woman replied softly. Without another word, Mr. Herriman nodded and exited from sight to continue his search for Foster's resident redhead.

After staring quietly at the now-empty doorway for a few moments, Mac took a hard swallow before slowly turning back to face with what he assumed would be an absolutely hysterical twenty-three-year-old.

"…Um….Okay," he whimpered nervously as he braced himself. "That…that was just….uh…maybe he…uh….let's just take a deep breath first before we jump to any conclusions, and-"

The stammered died upon his lips as soon as he came face to face with what appeared to be the living embodiment of pure joy. Stunned speechless, the boy just gawked dumbly at the girl who just minutes before had appeared to be on the verge of a massive anxiety attack. With the way Frankie was now smiling like a fool from ear to ear in unmistakable glee, it almost seemed as if the nine-year-old was now talking to a completely different person.

As he struggled to understand her near-miraculous change in demeanor, Mac tugged gently upon her jacket and asked softly, "….Frankie? Frankie, why-"

"C'mon!" she whooped happily before leaping off her bed. "Let's go shoot some hoops out on the basketball court!"

"What? Frankie, what're you –_whoa_! Hey, wait, wait!" the mystified child cried as she playfully scooped him into her arms and hefted him onto her shoulders. "Frankie, wait!"

"It'll be fun, I promise!" she only laughed encouragingly while still beaming joyously. "I can teach you how to-"

"Hey, _what_ gives?" Mac finally managed to demand as his head spun in bafflement. "First you were totally freaking out, and now _this_? I...I thought you were panicked about-"

"Believe me, I _was_." Frankie affirmed calmly, and then paused to twirl a few blonde strands with a free hand almost lovingly.

"….So why aren't you anymore?" the dumbfounded child asked.

She just giggled deviously as she carried him piggyback style into the hall. "Because, that was all _before_ I got the day off!"

**The End **


End file.
